


Find You

by MeowshmallowX



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, MilaSara, Minor Injuries, Oops, Romance, also i wrote half of this at 2 am, i can't tag, saramila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 07:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeowshmallowX/pseuds/MeowshmallowX
Summary: Sara finds Mila like this: sprawled on the ice, curled in on herself. In pain.





	Find You

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't actually mean for it to be this way, but the title reminded me of [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ec92Wa8zJs8).
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! (=^ ◡ ^=)
> 
> (Also, this lives [on Tumblr](https://victuuri-ous.tumblr.com/post/168163483865/find-you) as well, so if you'd like to check it out there, that'd be awesome!)

_Crack!_

She could feel her bones grind into one another, the soft cartilage between them wearing thin. She could feel her fingers and toes stiffen with the cold. She could feel the bruises throb, shrieking at her to _stop, wait, this is too much._

But what she couldn’t feel was the balance—she, she’d lost it. If she, if she lost it, she lost her way, lost herself. Everything was out of place. Everything. And until she found the rhythm again….

 _Just one more_. She gritted her teeth, the metallic tang of blood stinging her tongue, and prepared to jump. Her skates hissed and clicked against the ice, cutting patterns into its glittering surface, and she kicked off—

“ _Shit_!” she spat.

Impact. An explosion of pain all down her back. Sparks shot across her vision, her _everything_ throbbing. The ice was smooth and unyielding beneath her body and oh, she wished like hell she could just lie there forever, but she had to get up. Had to find her way. _Had_ to. If she ever wanted to win….

“Mila?” called a familiar voice. “Mila— _mio Dio_ , Mila, what are you doing?”

Warmth. The gentle scent of honey and lavender and safety. Fingers dancing over her face, her throat, her aching head. A curtain of inky hair cascading over one graceful shoulder, violet eyes shimmering with worry.

“O-oh—Sara!” exclaimed Mila. She gingerly reached up to touch her sore head. “You’re here so early!”

Sara nodded, face still tense with concern. “My flight was canceled, and I was transferred to an earlier one. Mila, _amore_ , are you okay? No—don’t answer that. You aren’t. Come with me.”

Mila frowned. “Just a little longer, Sara. I’m nearly there.”

“No.” Sara’s expression darkened. “We’re getting you _home_.”

*

“Mila?” called Sara through the bathroom door. “How is it?”

Mila sighed, relaxing into the water. “It’s perfect. Thank you, _zolotse_.”

“Good.” Sara sounded pleased. “I have your robe for when you’re done.”

“You don’t have to do this,” started Mila. She opened her eyes and sat up, the hot water swirling and eddying around her. “I’m okay.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” declared Sara. “I do what I want.”

Mila laughed. “I know you do. Your brother knows, too.”

“And I _want_ to take care of you,” she continued, “because I love you and you need a break once in a while.”

There was a moment of quiet, filled only by the ripple of the bath, by the whisper of the steam as it flooded the room. Mila leaned back and lifted one foot, frowning. The skin was mottled with black, blue, and ruby, and the rest of her body wasn’t much better. Mila bit her lip. She was only nineteen—she still had years ahead of her—but with every second she got older, she had less of a chance to amaze people. A young prodigy like Yuri or Victor was much more captivating than a nineteen-year-old mediocre figure skater. She wasn’t impressive and she never could be. It didn’t matter how much she’d thrown away for skating. It didn’t matter. She would be buried, smothered, lost in a sea of stars.

“Damn it,” she muttered, throat tight.

“Hm? Mila, what is it?” asked Sara, cracking open the door. “Are you done?”

Mila felt the tightness in her chest ease. Slightly. “Um…yeah. I’m done.”

Sara slipped inside and hung the robe up on one of the hooks, pulling down the towel and gliding over to the side of the bathtub. Mila could only stare. The Italian skater’s every move was elegant—she held herself with a grace that commanded attention, admiration. Mila’s heart skipped a beat. _How did I ever get so lucky?_

“Here,” murmured Sara, “I have your towel.”

Mila started, leaning over to unplug the drain and rising. Water droplets slid down her skin, catching the crappy incandescent light and blushing amber. She swiped at them, accepting the towel from Sara and wrapping it around herself.

“I’m not going to fall over trying to dry myself off,” joked Mila, raising her eyebrows.

Sara turned pink and spun around. “Oh—right. S-sorry.”

Mila huffed out an almost-laugh and waited for the door to click shut behind Sara before letting the tears fall.

And then she split apart.

Sawed-off sobs muffled by the towel, shaking shoulders, eyes squeezed shut. She—she didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve Sara, didn’t deserve the break she was getting, no, she should, she should’ve stayed back at the rink, practice-practice-practicing like Lilia always said she should, like the _real_ skaters did, like Sara did, and she—

 _No._ Sara’s voice, not out loud but in her head.

_No?_

_No._

Mila froze. What…?

 _You always work so hard._ Sara’s sparkling smile flashed through Mila’s mind. _Mila, Mila, luce dei miei occhi, I’m proud of you._

“I….” whispered Mila, clutching at her towel. “I….”

That voice—the kind voice, the sweet voice, the voice that pulled her out of the darkness when she’d lost her way—when did it become Sara’s?

“The cookies are ready!” called Sara from the kitchen. “Hurry up!”

Mila’s face bloomed into a smile.

*

The crackle of the fire in the hearth filled the tiny living room, its scent mingled with the smell of chocolate chip cookies and soap. Sara pressed a kiss to the top of her sleeping girlfriend’s head, cozy warmth settled in her chest, and drew the blankets tighter around the two of them. Mila looked so peaceful like this. _Good,_ thought Sara. _She needs it._ Because she knew what Mila thought about when she was by herself—what Mila thought about her own accomplishments. She knew Mila could work herself to insanity if people left her alone when she was like this.

She knew because she was always the exact same way.

They were all this way—skaters—so focused on what they hadn’t achieved that they completely missed what they had. It was so easy to bury the thoughts, the emotions in the sound of blades on ice because they drowned out the horrible little voices. It was so easy to pour everything into the sport and have nothing left. It was so easy to get lost.

But Sara had a map and a compass and a will.

She would always find Mila.

**Author's Note:**

> Um...yeah. This isn't very good - I'm sorry - but I don't think there's enough Saramila around, so I wanted to contribute. Thank you so much for reading, though, and if you actually did by some miracle find this somewhat okay, kudos/comments are _much_ appreciated!
> 
> Have a wonderful day! ٩(◕‿◕)۶


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